Grind those cogs and gears,
mechanical parts of your
unethical being, until
tears fall from the clockwork
structure of your eyes. Don't
let that mechanism rust,
the one that helps you run
(but not from your problems).
I can hear you ticking away,
so your insides must be
working. If that's the truth,
why aren't you crying over me,
like I have over you?